“Yeah, right.”
“It’s not.”
“You don’t want to go out with him.” Clyde lit up another Camel. “He’s a loser.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“He’s a fag.”
Heat rushed to her face. “Shouldn’t you be back in the ticket booth?”
“And sell tickets to who? You see any customers lining up?”
“Not at the moment.”
“And you won’t. Nobody ever shows up this late.”
“Well, you don’t have to stand here.”
Grinning, he said, “You don’t want to go out with a guy like Warren.”
“I already told you, I’m not.”
“So, then, you’ll come to dinner with me tonight?”
“No!”
Smiling languidly, he blew smoke into her face. “Why not?”
“I—have—a—previous—engagement.”
“Still?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“With Warren?”
“No.”
“With who?”
“None of your business.”
“A mystery date.”
“Right. That’s it. I have a mystery date.”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“I don’t know. He’s going to surprise me. And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. None of this is your business, Clyde. You really oughta learn how to take ‘no’ for an answer. Now why don’t you please drop it?”
Smiling with the cigarette pinched between his lips, he held up both hands as if surrendering. “All right,” he said. “I’m dropping it
“Thank you.”
“It’s your loss.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Going out with some pathetic loser when you could be going out with me.”
“I’ll probably regret it.”
“You’ll
Dana felt a little cold and shaky inside.
He turned away and stepped out of sight around the rear corner of the ticket booth. A moment later, the door banged shut.
Dama took an enormous breath, filling her lungs. She blew the air out through her pursed lips, then hopped up onto the stool.
She felt a little sick inside.
In her mind, she saw the sneer on Clyde’s face as he said,
Warren hadn’t
They didn’t all prance around, flipping their hands in the air and rolling their eyes and talking like flamboyant broads. Many did, but certainly not all of them.
Tuck’ll know, she told herself.
Off in the distance, the front door of Beast House swung open. Five or six people stepped out onto the porch and started down the stairs. A couple of them were taking their earphones off.
About time, Dana thought. Customers.
She hopped off the stool and waited for them.
When they arrived, she chatted with them and took their players. After they left, she rewound all the tapes, then returned the players to the shelves behind her stool.
The shelves were nearly full. Only a dozen or so players were still out.
She glanced at her wristwatch.
4:35
In less than half an hour, ticket sales would stop for the day.
But the house would remain open until 6:00, giving everyone time to complete the tour.
She hopped up onto the stool.
She supposed he was right about one thing, though: how could she spend the summer as a Beast House guide if the place made her feel ill?
I’ll just have to get over it, she told herself.
It seemed like a good idea.
She reached down for the walkie-talkie on her belt. But instead of pulling it free, she rested her hand on its warm plastic top.
After this, she thought, I’ll bring a book to read.
The time passed slowly.
At five o’clock, Clyde closed the ticket booth. He came around the rear corner. “So, have you changed your mind about dinner?”
“Sorry,” Dana said.
“Your loss. I’ll be taking off, now. One of the perks of working the ticket booth, you get to leave an hour early. Have fun.”
Nodding, she said, “Bye.”
Clyde winked, stepped past her, then gracefully vaulted the tumstile and headed toward town. Not looking back, he waved.
Immediately, Dana felt a pleasant sense of lightness, of freedom.
Amazing, she thought, how one person can mess up your outlook.
And enjoy it she did. It was one of those great afternoons when the sun is hot but a cool, moist breeze is blowing in from the Pacific. Seagulls squealed. She thought she could smell the ocean and the beach and the candy smell of suntan oil.
She pictured herself strolling barefoot along the beach, Warren by her side.
Doesn’t mean we can’t stroll on the beach together, she told herself.
